


an easy catch

by gortysproject



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: (only briefly but i want yall to be careful), Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, I Wrote This In Like An Hour Okay, M/M, Please Don't Shame Me Too Much For This, References to suicidal ideation, Vampire Kepler, lowkey ttbot au, references to blood, trans Jacobi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-28
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2019-01-25 15:54:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12535488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gortysproject/pseuds/gortysproject
Summary: “now, what’s a thing like you doing out so late in a place like this? gets dangerous after dark in this city.”jacobi knows. there are only so many stories he can hear about entirely inhuman gang wars, and bodies found in dumpsters drained dry of their blood, and people going missing to turn up days later as a completely different person, before he gets the message. “kinda like the danger,” he lies, because it’s an easier lie to pick up a guy with than the god-awful truth that he just doesn’t care what happens to him or who slits his throat in a dark alleyway anymore. nobody wants to hear that on the first date.warren kepler raises an eyebrow again, but there’s a light in his eyes that jacobi would like to believe he put there himself. “if you’re so interested in gambling with your life,” kepler murmurs, “then i’ve got a risk for you.”





	an easy catch

**Author's Note:**

> thiiiiiis was inspired by a picture of vampire kepler drawn by eli on the discord server
> 
> https://renarddong.tumblr.com/post/166873392887/little-bit-of-vampiric-nibbling (warning, link is also a little nsfw)

he meets him in a bar in san francisco, where the lights are dimmed low to give the lost souls their privacy and the booze is cheap so long as he doesn’t particularly mind what he’s drinking. it’s by no means a _glamorous_ space—some ballad from the eighties hums in the background as the light on the liquor shelf flickers, and a girl in a plasticky skirt makes a phone call to the same number six times in three minutes to only be sent to the voicemail, and famine itself crawls into the hollow chests of people who don’t know quite what they’re hungry for.

the neck of a bottle clinks against the rim of a glass, liquid sloshes against ice cubes, twisted lips accommodate a bitter taste, and a stranger drags out a stool beside daniel jacobi.

he steadfastly ignores the man. the drink currently holding his attention is a murky brown, and he pretends to remember the name—something beginning with d, something that _really_ needed a mixer to wash it down—as a warm, gentle voice beside him asks, “what’re you drinking, friend?”

“booze,” he responds curtly, affronted that this man would dare to interrupt such an important bonding moment between himself and the drink that _probably has a name beginning with d_ —but also entirely too worn out, too drummed down, to bother saying anything against it.

 _this guy is in the wrong place_ , he thinks, because his cold response only receives a chuckle in return. the sound reverberates through the cavern of his ribcage, and he finally turns his gaze to the side (and then a little up, because he didn’t expect this stranger to be so _tall_ ) as the man replies, “care to be more specific?”

his tongue laces around the words in an accent jacobi can’t quite place. still, challenge accepted, he bites back a little harder, “booze with ice. _icy_ booze.”

“that’s quite the sense of humour you have there,” is the only reply he gets to that. jacobi closes his eyes briefly— _give me strength_ —and he pretends to be unaffected by the weight of the other man’s gaze as he leans across to the bartender and orders a whiskey, no, _two_ whiskies, and delicately nudges one towards jacobi when the matching glasses are set down.

for a moment, jacobi eyes the drink as though it’s going to lash out at him. it doesn’t. he downs the last of his d-drink (he’ll remember the name in the morning, it’s fine) and tugs the whiskey the last few inches across the bar’s surface, curling his fingers around it appreciatively. “uh,” he starts eloquently, words filtering through his mind because there’s _definitely_ a social cue here that this stranger is waiting for with an arched eyebrow and he’s _definitely_ not remembering it right now— _wait_ — “thanks,” he finishes, and the stranger’s lips curve into a smile.

a really, _really_ pretty smile. a flash of perfect, white teeth, bared like a predator, and if prey is rewarded in whiskey and smiles as charming as _that_ , then daniel thinks he wouldn’t mind being hunted down in the slightest. then again, he’s always been an easy catch.

the music above them croons, “ _and now it chills me to the bone—how do i get you alone?_ ”

“you got a name?” the man asks, and jacobi doesn’t remember him leaning in, but he’s here now—he can see the smoothness of his skin, the blackness of his eyes, and he smells sweet, not perfumed but just _sweet_.

jacobi elects to lean in, too, fractionally, because _maybe_ he can face ditching a date with his own reflection in the bottom of a liquor glass to stay as intoxicatingly close to this man as possible. “daniel jacobi,” he says, voice low, as though anyone would bother to overhear this conversation—as though it matters who knows his name. (he’s an idiot, of course. it _always_ matters who knows your name in a city like this.) “you?”

“warren,” the stranger responds, and seems to hesitate long enough for his tongue to dart out and barely touch his own bottom lip. “warren kepler.” it could be fake, but jacobi decides he doesn’t particularly care if it is. “now, what’s a thing like you doing out so late in a place like this? gets dangerous after dark in this city.”

jacobi knows. there are only so many stories he can hear about entirely inhuman gang wars, and bodies found in dumpsters drained dry of their blood, and people going missing to turn up days later as a completely different person, before he gets the message. “kinda like the danger,” he lies, because it’s an easier lie to pick up a guy with than the god-awful truth that he just doesn’t care what happens to him or who slits his throat in a dark alleyway anymore. nobody wants to hear that on the first date.

warren kepler raises an eyebrow again, but there’s a light in his eyes that jacobi would like to believe he put there himself. “if you’re so interested in gambling with your life,” kepler murmurs, “then i’ve got a risk for you.”

 

* * *

 

 

one downed whiskey and a fifteen-minute stumble later, jacobi is fumbling for the keys to his apartment, desperately trying to concentrate on jamming the key in the lock but painfully distracted by the lips against the back of his neck.

kepler sneaks a hand into his pants pocket, massaging a circle against jacobi’s hipbone with a thumb that slipped under his shirt to rub against the bare skin itself. jacobi groans audibly as teeth graze over the skin of his throat, and he tilts his head, eyelids falling closed as he gives into the sensations.

“daniel,” kepler whispers, “are you going to open that door tonight, or—”

“right,” jacobi gasps, “right, god, just.” he peels his eyelids back open and stabs the key into the lock with a fierce, renewed determination, shoving the door open and practically falling inside with his desperation to get somewhere more appropriate. he toes off his shoes, because in the back of his mind he is reminded of how _unbelievably_ unsexy it is to try to pull them off when he’s kissing someone, and turns back around to kepler—

—kepler, who still stands on the other side of the door, reaching an arm out in an almost _gentlemanly_ manner and asking, “daniel jacobi, may i come in?”

jacobi, idiot that he is, accepts the gesture as a playful stab at courtship and takes his hand, replying, “you _may_ , good sir.”

with those words, he yanks kepler inside, who takes a moment to kick the door shut behind him before he pins jacobi against the wall of his tiny entrance corridor. kepler kisses him properly, now, lips pressed against his own harshly, a hand gripping his waist as the other slides up his throat in a soft caress. jacobi, touch-starved as he is, moans openly into kepler’s mouth, his own hands pressing against kepler’s chest— _muscular, defined chest_ —before one of them pushes upward to curl fingers into his hair.

at some point, some _unnoticeable_ point because there is far too much happening right now for jacobi’s hazy mind to even _begin_ to take it all in, kepler’s hands slide around to grip the curve of jacobi’s ass, travelling lower to grab his thighs and lift him up bodily against him. jacobi makes a noise, startled by the movement but in no way opposed to it, and winds his arms automatically over kepler’s shoulders and around his neck.

he simply mutters, “bedroom, second door on the left,” and kepler hums his approval against the cut of jacobi’s jaw. he carries him down the corridor. jacobi wonders if his night could _possibly_ have gone a better way.

somehow, he ends up in kepler’s lap on the bed, rocking into him in tiny sharp thrusts as kepler slowly, carefully unbuttons his shirt, taking his time. he pushes the shirt off jacobi’s shoulders when he finishes, pressing a delicate kiss to the hammering pulse in jacobi’s throat before reaching down to unclasp jacobi’s belt and slide it off in one simple, sensual move. the belt is dropped beside him on the bed.

now, he nudges jacobi to stand up, kneeling down in front of him to sit at face-level with jacobi’s crotch, and the sight alone makes jacobi want to cry. kepler unbuttons his pants as slowly as he had done his shirt, one hand reaching around to press flat against the small of jacobi’s back to keep him from swaying too hard. he pulls jacobi’s pants and underwear down with one smooth tug, and helps jacobi step out of them, before pressing a single kiss to his hipbone.

a finger runs across jacobi’s clit, presses into his wet centre, and kepler crooks a smile up at him. “aren’t you just beautiful,” he murmurs, and jacobi exhales shakily.

kepler stands up. he makes light work of his own clothes, and steps forward as soon as he’s naked to pull jacobi into a searing kiss—jacobi was already weak at the knees but he almost collapses, now. it’s okay, though; kepler is cradling him softly, lovingly, tugging him as he steps back to sit down on the bed and pull jacobi back into his lap.

jacobi leans over to fumble in his bedside drawer for a condom, and as he does so, kepler’s fingers explore him. one of them slides into him without warning and he gasps, bracing himself on the bedside table and rocking into kepler’s finger with a new kind of dizzying want. his fingers wrap around the condom he was looking for. he gives it to kepler. kepler presses a second finger inside him as a reward.

jacobi wants to say something intelligent, but the only words he can conjure up are a desperate, “more, god, fuck, please— _please_ —fuck me.”

all kepler mumbles into the hollow of his throat is, “gladly.”

a moment passes, but jacobi’s eyes are screwed shut by now. then the fingers are retreating from him, and he whines at the emptiness, but something bigger is replacing them and—

thighs shaking, he lowers himself onto kepler’s dick, helpless to stop himself from gasping at the stretch. kepler grins against his jaw, whispers, “good, good boy, come on,” and holds jacobi’s hips firmly as he begins to rock forward in earnest.

the intimacy of the position isn’t lost on them—jacobi’s gaze locks onto kepler’s, eyes unfocused, lips parted as their breaths mingle in the inch between them. jacobi’s arms are wrapped around kepler’s neck again, and kepler guides him, hands still firm on his hips as he almost lifts jacobi up for him so he can drop down heavily again. they both groan at the feeling, of kepler being buried inside jacobi, of his hips pressing flush and jacobi’s parted thighs shaking with the restraint of moving slowly, romantically, dizzily.

jacobi comes like that, with kepler’s thumb rubbing over his clit and kepler’s teeth grazing over his nipple, and kepler runs a hand up his spine soothingly as he convulses above him—crying out, clutching at him, far more emotive than any one-night stand should warrant.

a moment later, kepler rolls them over, pinning jacobi under him as his hips start to stutter out of rhythm. jacobi is so sensitive but kepler still feels so good, and he curls his nails into kepler’s skin, skull pressing into the mattress, jaw tilting up at the sky as his back arches to press him against kepler’s chest.

kepler’s hips still. his teeth, pressed against the column of jacobi’s throat, bite down. jacobi cries out.

and as kepler pulls out of him, jacobi feels the blood on his throat, panics briefly before kepler runs a soothing hand down his side and whispers, “don’t worry, i won’t take much. you’re far too precious to waste like that.”

the pieces slot into place, then, as kepler’s lips reattach themselves to jacobi’s throat—and it might be the alcohol, or the high he’s riding on, or the comforting weight of kepler’s body atop his own, but he doesn’t recoil from the vampire.

his vision blurs. “i,” he starts, murmuring it against kepler’s hair, hands grabbing faintly and uselessly at kepler’s arms, “i can give you so much more than just—than just—”

kepler pulls away. his bloodstained lips curve into that radiant smile once again. “i look forward to it.”

 _kinda like the danger._ maybe it wasn’t a lie after all.

**Author's Note:**

> as always, find me @aihera on tumblr
> 
> like i said on the discord server, i'm going to ban throwing bibles at me this time, because i'm genuinely concerned it might be a fire safety hazard if any of you have good aim.


End file.
